


Forgiveness

by RadioactiveDeLorean



Series: Guilty Ford [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ford really needs a hug, Gen, Guilt, Guilty Ford, Poor sad owl, Post-Weirdmageddon, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Stangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveDeLorean/pseuds/RadioactiveDeLorean
Summary: After Weirdmageddon, Ford is overwhelmed by guilt, a result of all of his mistakes. He believes that it would be best if he simply disappeared. Everyone would be so much better off without him. He hides away in his room, convinced everyone would be better off if he just stays away from them. He can't make any more mistakes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the [Guilty Ford AU](http://skaleigha.deviantart.com/art/Guilty-Ford-AU-638854381) by [Skaleigha on tumblr](Skaleigha.tumblr.com). I already posted it on [My Tumblr](radioactivedelorean.tumblr.Com) and felt like posting it here too.

Ford could hear the excited chatter filtering through the windows in his room. It sounded like everyone outside was having a great time. He buried himself further in the blanket on the sofa he was sleeping on. He pulled the blanket over his head and curled up. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to make a sound, fearing someone would hear him and then their fun would be interrupted. It would be  _ ruined,  _ just like everything else he ruined. He wasn’t welcome at the party, anyway. He wasn’t welcome anywhere. 

 

The reason he felt this way? Guilt. Crushing, deafening, overwhelming guilt. Everything that had happened to the town over the past week was his fault. He brought about the apocalypse and his family had to suffer as a result. Heck, he erased his own brother’s mind because he was too much of a damn coward to let someone kill him as soon as Bill entered his own mind. A swift bullet through the centre of his head would have done it. But  _ no,  _ he  _ had  _ to let his brother pay for his mistakes. Again. All Stanley ever did was help him, support him, protect him, and what had Ford done in return? Exile his brother, treat him like shit, punch him and erase his mind. Stanley had worked for thirty years on that portal trying to bring Ford back and the elder twin had never thanked him. Not once. He’d only done it so Stanley would hold his hand in that circle, but even then Ford had messed the whole thing up. For the sake of sheer arrogance, he had corrected Stanley on his grammar and the whole circle was ruined. 

 

It wasn’t the first thing he’d ruined. 

 

All Ford ever did was use his brother as a shield. The whole time through school, Stanley had protected his brother from bullies, given up his own dreams to support and protect Ford and what had Ford done? Turned his back on his brother as soon as Stanley had the first hint of a selfish thought. What a hypocrite. Everything Ford had done was for himself.  _ He  _ was the selfish one. The arrogant one. The screw-up. The  _ freak. _

 

Ford knew he deserved this treatment. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven for all the pain he’d caused. All the trouble. All the horror, fear, injuries, damage. Everything had been his fault. He’d made a deal with Bill in the first place, all to chase his own selfish desires. He built the portal, despite Fiddleford giving him all those warnings to dismantle the damn thing while he had the chance. He refused, Fiddleford was traumatised and the man lost his mind, all a result of Ford’s selfishness. He spent thirty years living in the dump, for Moses’ sake! He never returned to his family. His wife, his young child, he had to abandon them all because Ford was so selfish. He’d ruined not only Fiddleford’s life, but his partner’s family’s lives too. 

 

It wasn’t just Fiddleford’s family who had paid for his mistakes. His brother had to fake his death and attend his own funeral in order to cover up the fact that Ford was missing. Both of his parents had passed away believing Stanley was dead, and they never found out that in truth, Stanford was the one missing. Stanley had sacrificed so much to keep Ford’s disappearance a secret. He had, once again, sacrificed everything he had to keep his brother safe. And when Stanley had needed Ford the most, Ford had ignored him. Shunned him. Turned him away. 

 

And then there were the twins. They were just kids, only just teenagers as of today - they should have never had to even know about any of this. Stanley had had to lie to both them and their parents in order to keep Ford a secret. Then Ford came back and ruined everything. He’d caused the twins so much pain. He’d tried to separate them. He’d asked Dipper to become his apprentice without so much as a thought about Mabel’s feelings. The last things the twins had done before Weirdmageddon broke out was fight. They’d argued, Mabel had run off and the rift had been smashed. The kids had fought tooth and nail to get Ford back and they nearly died. Bill could have  _ killed  _ them, all because Ford was so damn selfish. Those kids had been traumatised, and it was all Ford’s fault.

 

The sound of laughter echoed through the room from outside and Ford curled up tighter, trying desperately to vanish into thin air. Part of him felt guilty for missing such a big occasion, but that little part was drowned by the rest of him, telling him to stay hidden and don’t make a sound. That he’d only ruin everything if he tried to join in. He could see the kid’s disgusted faces, the look of hatred on the faces of the townsfolk, the utter loathing on Stanley’s face. Heck, even  _ Waddles  _ would probably growl at him or walk away or something. He didn’t deserve to be included in the fun, anyway, after everything he’d caused. He’d only be shouted at, or shoved, or have rocks thrown at him. A thirteenth birthday was something the kids would only experience once and he didn’t want to spoil it for them. He’d already spoiled the last part of their summer, he couldn’t ruin their birthday too. 

 

Ford’s stomach growled noisily and he couldn’t help but punch himself in the gut, trying to shut it up. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t eaten at all in the last week or so. It wasn’t important. He couldn’t leave his room, anyway. If he did, he’d only be glared at by his family. He’d ruin their day with his very presence. That was why he had to be careful whenever he left his room to get some water or to go to the bathroom. He didn’t want to bump into anyone and cause them more problems. He’d already done enough to ruin their lives. He wasn’t welcome in this house, but he was too scared to leave.

 

He just wanted to get out of their lives forever. Everyone would be so much better off without him. They wouldn’t have to worry about the apocalypse, or the insane researcher who lived in the woods. They wouldn’t have to wonder if each day might be their last. But, as much as he wanted to, Ford couldn’t bring himself to leave. He desperately wanted to make it up to everyone by leaving, but he just couldn’t. Not while Stanley’s mind was still being recovered. He had to stay, for the sake of his brother. He’d kick himself if Stanley had a memory lapse, or forgot everything entirely, and there was nobody around to help him. He couldn’t erase memories of himself from the townsfolk for one reason: he’d seen what it had done to Fiddleford, and he wouldn’t wish that upon anyone else. That’s what made it so difficult though. Ford knew nobody wanted his help. He knew that everyone just wanted to get rid of him. He knew that everyone saw him as a burden, a leech, a nuisance, and he knew that everyone else knew they’d be better off without him. 

 

Ford froze, hearing someone walk past his bedroom door - if that’s even what his room could be called. It was in the semi-underground part of the Shack and was once his old study, but he’d been sleeping in here ever since he was brought back, on account of the fact that Stanley had claimed his bedroom for his own. Whoever was walking past got to the end of the hall and then walked back. Judging by the sound of the footsteps, Ford guessed it was one of the twins. He sighed quietly, still not moving from his position on the couch. The laughter and chatter from outside died down as the voices, in unison, sung an out-of-tune version of ‘Happy Birthday’. There was cheering, followed by Dipper and Mabel talking. Dipper was talking about how he already had everything he ever wanted. Lifting the blanket from off his head, Ford strained to listen to the boy’s words.

 

“I’ve already got the best friends I could ever ask for. You’re all like family to me, even though technically Grunkle Stan and Mabel are the only ones who are  _ actually  _ family.” There was some light chuckling from the crowd and Ford felt his heart sink. It was true. The kids didn’t see him as family. He didn’t deserve to be part of their family, anyway. Still, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet sob as the truth sunk in. The kids didn’t care about him. Why should they, after everything he’s done?

 

Then it was Mabel’s turn. “My only wish is to shrink you all down and take you home in my pocket, but since that’s probably impossible, I just want everyone here to sign my scrapbook.” Ford’s heart sunk further.  _ Everyone here _ . He wasn’t out there with them. ‘Everyone here’ meant the whole town apart from him. Why should he get to sign the book? So that every time Mabel looked at it, she was reminded of the guy who nearly caused her death? The guy who ruined her summer? He didn’t deserve to be part of something like that. There was no way she’d let him sign the book, anyway. Mabel didn’t care about him. Nobody did.

 

There was more chatter and cheering after that as the party went on. Ford pulled the blanket back over his head again. Quiet sobs racked his body, making the blanket tremble. All his thoughts had been confirmed. There wasn’t a single person in the town who cared about him. Why should there be? He caused the apocalypse. He hurt them. People could have  _ died and it was all his fault.  _ Ford covered his mouth, trying to stay silent. Even though he knew nobody would be able to hear him, he didn’t want to make a sound. Making a sound would mean people would be reminded that he was still here and not lying in some dirty forest somewhere far away from anyone he could hurt. 

 

Because, at the end of the day, lying alone in the middle of nowhere was all Ford really deserved.

 

00000

 

**_Two days later..._ **

 

“C’mon kids, got everything?”

 

“Yes, Grunkle Stan!” 

 

Ford flinched. The kids were right outside his bedroom door. They must be leaving. That was it. Summer was over and he’d failed to apologise to them. Just like he’d failed to give them a good summer, like he’d failed to give them a good uncle. Ford buried his face in his hands, remaining hidden under the blanket. He’d failed to be anything worthy of redemption. Ford heard the kids dragging heavy luggage towards the door. He could hear the voices of their friends, waiting to say goodbye to them. Ford wasn’t going to join them. He didn’t want their last memories of summer to be the man who caused the apocalypse talking to them. He couldn’t ruin this moment for them. His stomach growled again. He still hadn’t eaten anything since two days before Weirdmageddon broke out. That made it over two weeks since he’d had anything to eat. Two days before Weirdmageddon, then the apocalypse itself had lasted just over a week, then it had been over a week since it had ended. Overall, it looked like seventeen or eighteen days since he’d eaten anything. He’d been drinking, obviously, but only water. It was the cheapest drink and the easiest to get hold of. 

 

There was a sharp, quick knock on the bedroom door. “Stanford, the kids are leaving. You gonna say goodbye or are you gonna keep sulking?” It was Stanley. Ford’s heart leapt into his throat. Someone was actually  _ talking  _ to him. He was at a crossroads. Did he stay inside, make everyone happy by not being there, but let the kids down for not saying goodbye? Or should he come out of his room and wave them off, only to ruin their last day in Gravity Falls? Either way, he’d hate himself for it. Plus, he wanted to at least say goodbye to them, maybe try and apologise, even though he knew they didn’t want to hear it. He decided to bite the bullet. He could always just retreat to his room again once the kids had left.

 

“Coming…” Ford said quietly. He pulled the blanket off of him, tossing it to the floor, and grabbed his glasses. He flattened down his hair and got up. His hunger caused his head to spin, but he ignored it. He took slow steps towards the door, becoming more aware of the pain in his body. He still hadn’t fully healed from all the tortures Bill had put him through. He knew that the severe lack of food would only make it worse, but at this point he didn’t care. Pulling his boots on, he grabbed the handle of the door and opened it slowly. The light from the hallway blinded him momentarily and he briefly thought of what a mess he must look.

 

Stanley stood on the other side of the door, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he saw the state his brother was in. Ford’s hair was sticking up all over the place. He had dark circles underneath his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot, the area around them puffy and red. His face was covered in scratches that hadn’t quite yet healed. His cheeks were sunken and he looked terribly thin. Sure, his brother had never quite had the gut Stan did, but he just looked so underweight. What was the worst part, however, was the expression on Ford’s face. His brother looked a mixture of downcast and terrified. He looked so  _ sad,  _ yet still had a slight bit of nervousness about him, as if Stan would lash out and hit him at any moment. He looked so guilty, too. His whole body was curled in on itself. He had his arms wrapped around his stomach, his shoulders sagging. He refused to meet Stanley’s concerned gaze, his head down and his sight fixed on his feet. 

 

Stanley was at a loss for words. “Ford… what… what’s wrong... ?”

 

Ford’s voice was quiet and cracked. “... I’m so sorry…” His shoulders were shaking and he covered his mouth with one hand, feeling tears pricking his eyes.

 

Alarm bells went off in Stan’s mind. Ford had done this to himself. “Sorry for what…?” Stan asked softly, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer. He tried to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, frowning when Ford flinched and pulled away, trying to retreat back into his room. “Ford, please,”

 

Ford shook his head quickly and turned to go back into his room. Stan put his arm out to stop him. Ford let out a startled noise and stepped away quickly, pressing his back against the wall. His eyes were wide and terrified. “Ford… please…” Stanley said softly. 

 

“I’m so sorry…” Ford mumbled again. He buried his face in his hands again. “F-for everything… it’s all my f-fault…” He sunk slowly to the ground. “Everything… it’s all because of m-me…” He pulled his legs up close to his chest, keeping his face hidden in his knees.

 

“Ford…” Stan knelt beside his brother. He put a hand on his shoulder, feeling Ford flinch again. “When was the last time you ate?”

 

Ford shrugged. “Dunno,” he mumbled. That was a lie - he didn’t want to tell his brother that he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “Doesn’t matter,”

 

“Of course it matters!” Stan bit his lip. “Ford, you’re a wreck.”

 

“So?” Ford’s voice was quiet, barely audible. “Just go and say goodbye to the kids. Don’t worry ‘bout me,”

 

“Grunkle Stan! We’ve got all our stuff and the bus is nearly here!” Dipper’s voice called from outside. “You coming?” The younger twins ran back to the door, stopping in their tracks. They hadn’t seen Ford in over a week. Now he was sitting in the hallway with his face buried in his knees. Ford flinched at their voices.

 

Stan looked up at the kids. “I’ll be there in just a second.” He turned back to his brother. “C’mon, Ford. Talk to me. How long has it been since you last had some food?”

 

“Nearly three weeks,” Ford mumbled into his legs.

 

“Three weeks?!” Stan exclaimed. “Crap, Ford! You need to eat something!” 

 

“N-no I don’t,” Ford murmured, stubbornly keeping his face hidden. He couldn’t let his brother see the tears in his eyes. “I c-can’t.”

 

“What the hell do you mean you can’t?” Stan demanded. His face softened as his brother flinched at the harsh tone in his voice.

 

“I c-can’t, ‘cause it costs you money and you’ve already given up so much for me and I’ve just been selfish and I hurt you and I hurt the kids and-”

 

“Whoa, whoa Ford, calm down,” Stan put his hand on the side of Ford’s face. “Hey, look at me Poindexter.”

 

Ford lifted his head slowly. The dark circles under his eyes were even more apparent now. His eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so s-sorry, Stanley.”

 

Stanley shook his head and pulled Ford into a hug, tightening his arms around him when he felt Ford try to pull away. He laid his chin on the top of Ford’s head, rubbing small circles across his back. “It’s okay… it’s okay…”

 

And then the floodgates opened.

 

A second later, Ford was sobbing into Stan’s shoulder, gripping the back of Stan’s sweater for dear life. “I-I’m so sorry .. this is all m-my fault… I erased y-your m-m-mind a-an-and I hurt you… a-and I hurt the kids… I d-didn’t wanna c-come see them on their b-birthday cause I’d r-ruin ev-verything a-and you sh-shouldn’t h-have opened that portal everyone w-would have b-b-been b-better off without m-me I j-just hurt p-p-people I’m a f-freak I’m a m-m-monster I r-ruined the summer B-Bill should have j-just killled me I should never have b-been b-b-”

 

“Ford.” Stan cut him off before he could finish. “Don’t  _ ever  _ say that. We’ve all made mistakes-”

 

“None of yours ever caused the apocalypse, though, did they?” Ford snapped. “I summoned a demon just so I could become famous. If I w-wasn’t so damn selfish none of you would have ever been h-hurt.”

 

The twins, tears in their eyes, rushed forwards and embraced Ford in a tight hug. “Grunkle Ford we love you.” Mabel said, burying her face in Ford’s sweater. “You’re not selfish. You told us how to defeat Bill.”

 

“You played games with me,” Dipper added. “You’re not selfish. You protected me from that alien guard thing. You saved my life.”

 

Ford shook his head and tried to pull away, but Stan held onto him and wouldn’t let go. “No, don’t defend me. What I did was wrong and horrible and I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”

 

“Grunkle Ford stop it!” Mabel shouted. Ford froze. “You  _ do  _ deserve to be forgiven. None of this was your fault. All of us have been tricked by Bill. But you helped us get rid of him, and now he’s gone! He’s gone because you helped us!”

 

“She’s right Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said. “Bill’s gone because  _ you  _ helped us get rid of him. Grunkle Stan got his memory back. It’s okay!”

 

“It’s okay, Poindexter,” Stan mumbled into his brother’s hair. “It’s okay. We’re all okay, because of you. Now would you quit beating yourself up so much and come and say goodbye?”

 

Ford took a deep breath and nodded. The kids got up and Stanley pulled his brother to his feet, keeping an arm looped over his shoulders. Together, the family walked outside and towards the road where the bus was waiting. Ford looked at the twins, then at his brother. A small smile came to his face. They’d forgiven him. He couldn’t believe it, and part of him was still convinced he didn’t deserve it, but they’d  _ forgiven him.  _ He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took a deep breath. 

 

Stanley looked at his twin. “You alright Ford?”

 

Ford smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  
This time, he wasn’t lying.


End file.
